


Weeds

by Draikinator



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Roadtrips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 09:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5158025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draikinator/pseuds/Draikinator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan and Kyle have to drive across the state to go pick up Kenny after a drug assisted emotional meltdown- let the pining ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weeds

“ _im sorry.”_

The note was succinct, but it meant a lot of different things. For one, it meant Stan wasn’t carpooling to school today. It meant the reason the room was tidier than Stan had ever once seen it since Kenny had moved in did not mean he’d turned over a new leaf on cleanliness. It meant Stan was horrified but not surprised to see Kenny’s car absent from their driveway when he jumped over the bed to look through the window.

It meant Kenny was gone.

Stan paced around for a little while, trying to figure out what to do. He was caught on calling the police, because there was probably enough time to catch him- their parents were out of town visiting Shelly at college, and Stan was spending the night at Clyde’s for a party that Kenny had opted out of. If Stan hadn’t wandered home at 10pm, drunk and simmering after a particularly nasty argument with Craig Tucker, he wouldn’t have found the note until the following morning, or even afternoon, depending. Kenny would have gotten a much bigger head start. As it stood he had about three hours max on him, and while Stan was, again, fairly certain they could find him, that would be it for Kenny. He was always in trouble with someone, and he was sitting on nineteen absences at school- he couldn’t afford another one, or he’d fail the semester. Stan couldn’t call the police on him.

He ran his fingers through his hair, digging his nails into the flakes of his scalp and trying to ignore the burn of uncertainty in his gut. He walked outside, walked back inside, picked up his keys, then put them back on the counter, then walked outside and down the road to a house he hadn’t been ttoo in a very long time.

He knocked on the door twice, then paused, then rapped continuously until it opened.

Kyle’s face immediately soured when he saw him.

“I need your help,” said Stan, hiccuping and trying to hold back the burn of mostly-anxious tears. Kyle sighed in an exasperated way and leaned on the doorframe.

“Algebra homework is twenty, Stanley.”

Stan shook his head and made a little noise, rubbing his eyes in frustration, “No! Not with that. I mean real help- it- it’s Kenny.”

Kyle’s grimace softened into a perplexed frown, “What about him?”

“He’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean gone?”

“I mean he ran away! He ran away Kyle and I don’t know where he went and our folks are out of town and I can’t call the cops, not after- not again, I can’t, he- I don’t know what to do and-”

“You’re drunk,” Kyle said softly. Stan nodded. Kyle looked behind him, chewed his bottom lip, then stepped to the side, opening the door and ushering Stan out of the cold. He stepped onto the inside tile foyer and slipped off his boots.

“He found his sister on Facebook the other day. He’s been twitchy ever since. Like, really messed up about it. I wasn’t sure if, if he was gonna run away, or kill himself, or his dad, or- I didn’t. I still don’t know.”

“Karen?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think he killed himself?”

“No. He took his car.”

“So do you think he went to find her?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know where she is.”

“Is her facebook name Karen McCormmick?”

“No, it’s- um, Roberts, I think he said. He said that’s why he couldn’t find her, that they’d, they’d changed their names. He was really mad.”

“Well,” said Kyle, turning to take the stairs two at a time, voice raising as Stan moved belatedly to follow, “We’ll look her up and go from there.”

It was Robinson, actually, and Stan was ever grateful for Kyle’s vastely superior abilities with facebook and computers. Computers had never interested him, and Kyle was moving too fast around the screen for him to really properly follow. He was glad he’d come to him for help, even if they hadn’t been on great terms lately.

“Colby,” Kyle said, jabbing the screen, “Kansas.”

“How can you tell?” Stan asked dubiously, eyeing the photo of the brown haired girl in her profile picture, flashig double peace signs and hugging another girl in front a building.

“It says she goes to Colby Public High School,” Kyle said, looking up. Stan grit his teeth.

“I’m going to get him.”

Kyle stared at him, “You can’t drive.”

Stan faltered uncertainly, “I can’t?”

“You’ve been drinking.”

“Oh. Yeah,” Stan said dumbly, and Kyle narrowed his eyes, before sighing dramatically.

“We’ll take my car. Go put your shoes back on.”

Stan practically ran for the door, not even bothering to lace them before he stumbled out into the dnow toward’s Kyle’s maroon CVR passenger door. Kyle followedat a light jog, grabbing his keys from the counter and textingas he sat. Stan buckled his seat belt and pulled up the gps on his phone.

“I’m telling my mom I decided to go to Clyde’s party after all,” Kyle said, when Stan fhewed his lip and tried to lean over and watch him text. He leaned away, embarassed.

“Sorry.”

“Whatever,” said Kyle, and put his phone down, turning the ignition and backing out of the driveway.

They drove for a few minutes in silence before Kyle glanced at him and asked, in put-on deadpan, “Do you think he’s going to do something stupid?”

Stan didn’t say anything, but he looked down. Kyle frowned, but let it go.

They were two hours in when Stan finally looked over and asked, hesitantly, “Why are you doing this?”

Kyle looked startled, looked at him, looked at the road, looked back at him, made a weird noise, half smiled and then frowned and then said, “Because I couldn’t let you drive drunk?”

“I wasn’t going to, though,” Stan said. He’d tried, once, stupidly, and gone right off the road into a cornfield, spinning in the dirt at seventy miles an hour. He’d been sure he was going to die, but he hadn’t, and his car was fine, so he ran away and never told anyone, and never did it again.

“Sure,” said Kyle, like he wanted Stan to think he didn’t believe him.

Stan looked at his phone for the hundredth time and called Kenny again, but like always, it went straight to voicemail.

Kyle narrowed his eyes at the phone and looked back at the road, changing lanes to get around a particularly slow driving silver Malibu.

“You know,” said Kyle, clicking off his turn signal, “Maybe he doesn’t want to come back. Maybe we get there and he just punches you.”

“Shut up, dude,” Stan said, and immediately regretted it, “Probably. I can overpower him, though. We’ve been fighting since we were ten.”

“Mm,” said Kyle, with something unpleasant in his voice. Stan ignored it.

“He’s gonna do something stupid,” said Stan, “And he’s gonna get arrested, and I can’t, I mean- I- I gotta-” he was stammering, unable to make it through his cracking voice.

“Why are you so worried anyway? He’s always been like this,” said Kyle, irritably. Stan breathed through his nose, “What aren’t you telling me?”

Stan grit his teeth, then scrunched his eyes shut, leaning forward and pinching the bridge of his nose, “Remember how he quit the hard stuff?”

“Yeah?”

“He unquit the hard stuff.”

“What?! After all that shit?” Kyle said, not even bothering to hide his disgust. Stan sighed.

“Only for like, a week, since he found Karen. He kept saying dumb shit, like, like he was just trying to keep himself from doing anything and that it was keepinn him calm or whatever but- I mean it just really freaked him the fuck out, he’s totally falling the fuck apart, and then that shit with Bebe-”

“What shit with Bebe?”

“He was dating Bebe-”

“Isn’t Bebe a lesbian?”

“Wel, yeah, but Kenny was like, ‘I’m a girl now,’ and then he was like 'I dunno maybe im a boy AND a girl,’ and then he was like 'maybe im a boy sometimes and maybe im a girl sometimes’ and he went on about that immortality ressurection shit again even though I know his therapist told him to let that shit go, and then he was like "maybe im something else ENTIRELY,’ and then Bebe was like 'look if youre not a girl im not gonna date you’ and then he freaked out and didn’t come out of his room for like, a week, and- and- why are you looking at me like that?”

“What are Kenny’s pronouns?” Kyle asked, tautly, Stan stared at him for a minute.

“Huh?”

“Like, what’s he- shit. What’s Kenny go by these days? Are you just saying he cuz you think-”

“No, no, shit no, dude, come on,” Stan said, lowering his eyebrows, “He said use he till he picks something. He doesn’t like switching around. Seriously, dude, come on, I don’t get it, but I’m not an asshole.”

Kyle looked back at the road, chewed on his lower lip and sighed, rolling his eyes, “Sorry, you know, it’s just, straight men-”

“I never said I was straight,” Stan mumbled, staring out the window. Kyle didn’t respond. “Coke. He got it from your stupid boyfriend.”

“Craig’s not my stupid boyfriend,” Kyle said, cutting him a sharp look, and Stan tilted his head, trying not to look as interested as he was.

“He’s not?”

“No. We broke up.”

“Oh,” said Stan, lamely. He looked at his shoes and retied them for the third time.

“He’s moving to Denver to help take care of Tweak.”

“Oh,” said Stan, a little quieter, “Sorry.”

“…Don’t be. I don’t think I even really like him,” he said, softly, and Stan held his breath, because he hadn’t heard Kyle speak like that in awhile, “I think I just wanted to like him.”

“Oh,” said Stan, again. Kyle gave him a look and he shrugged in a small way, averting his eyes, “I was glad you liked him. I was glad you liked someone.”

Kyle looked out the window, but didn’t otherwise respond, and the silence was making Stan uncomfortable, so he continued.

“I mean, just. I thought you were happy.”

“Well,” Kyle huffed, still staring out the murky glass into the darkness, “I wasn’t.”

“Oh.”

There was a long and pregnant silence that made Stan fidget, so he tried calling Kenny again and was surprised when he answered.

“You’re supposed to be at Clyde’s,” Kenny said, voice tense and cracking through the mobile static.

“I came home. Where are you?”

“I’m-” a pause, “I’m outside their house.”

“Kenny- don’t- what are you going to do?” Stan said, leaning forward like it would improve he quality of the call.

“Nothing. I don’t know. I’m. Where are you?”

“On the way, dude. On the way. Hour and a half out.”

“Okay. Okay. Okay? Okay.” He sounded anxious, and there was a full tapping that sounded like he was nervously jiggling his leg against the dash, “Come get me. Come get me, okay? Okay.”

“Yeah, dude, we’re coming to get you. It’s okay, dude, you’re okay.”

The tapping stopped, “We? Jesus fuck, dude, you didn’t call Mom, did you?”

“Fuck no, I didn’t call Mom- it- Kyle’s driving.”

Kyle glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, then slid his gaze back to the road.

“Oh. Ohh. Shit. Fuck. Dude. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, dude.”

“No, it- it’s- shit, I’m- 23rd and wooster, okay, christ, I’ll see you then.”

The line cut and by the time Stan had scrambled to call back, it was going straight to voicemail. He pressed the phone to his forehead and sighed, leaning forward on his knees, fists pressed against the dashboard.

“Is he okay?” Kyle asked after a moment. Stan shrugged, and Kyle’s eyes softened.

Stan adjusted the end location on google maps and let it reroute. Kyle kept his eyes on the road.

“Does he really call Sharon "mom?”“

Stan looked at him, perplexed, "What? Yeah, why wouldn’t he?”

“Sharon’s not his mom.”

“More of a mom than Carol was,” Stan said, uncharacteristically snippy. Kyle grimaced.

“I’m sure you’re a happy little family.”

“Dude. We’re going to pick up my brother in a drug induced panic attack after he ran away on a Saturday night to find his estranged, kidnapping piece of shit parents. I don’t know why you’re acting like this.”

“Because, Stanley,” Kyle snipped, tightening his grip on the wheel, and Stan twitched at the way Kyle had said his full name, drawing it out, “It’s the middle of the night, and maybe if he wants to ruin his life it’s really not either of our fucking problems!”

“Stop the car.”

“Jesus christ, Stan, don’t be so fucking-”

“Stop the fucking car, Kyle!” Stan yelled, and grabbed the door handle for emphasis. He’d expected the door to have been locked, but it opened against the seventy miles per hour night wind and Kyle swore, eyes wide as he jerked the steering wheel in surprise. They hit the grass with the front right tire and both screamed as Kyle totally lost control, the CRV spinning like a top on the grassy field beside the road.

The car came to a stop, door ajar, Stan clinging white knuckled to the handle and Kyle pressed shivering against the wheel, breathing shakily.

“Jesus Christ, Stan, what the fuck were you thinking?!” Kyle yelled, suddenly, voice cracking as he leaned toward Stan to hit him, and his seatbelt snapped him back, taut. His fists still landed, but lightly, the position uncompensated for. Stan ripped his seatbelt off and stumbled out of the car on legs that only carried him a few unsteady steps before dumping him onto the moist earth knees-first, where he wretched into a tire track.

He didn’t even notice Kyle follow him until his fist connected with his jaw and he fell over, into the mud.

“What the fuck, dude?!” He yelled, still spitting bile out from under his tongue, but Kyle wasn’t done and they were fighting, now, apparently, because Kyle fell into him and tried to pin him down, but didn’t weigh nearly enough to really make a difference- Stan had been the football quarterback until last year when his asthma had unexpectedly flared up during a game and Kenny had jumped the barrier with his ancient forgotten inhaler, like he’d known he’d need it. Or like he was a dangerously paranoid person with loss issues, to the same end. Stan rolled him off him and kneed him in the groin in one fluid motion.

That effectively ended the fight, and Stan crawled away to wipe the mud off his face and glare at Kyle as he clutched his genitals and whined, pressing his forehead into the ground and shutting his eyes tight against hot tears.

“Why the fuck did you want to drive?!” Stan demanded, still kneeling like he was sheltering his fragile pride in the mud, a scared animal hiding under the shelter of his broad chest.

“Why the fuck did you show up at my door?!” Kyle spat back, doing the same thing.

Stan really wasn’t sure, so he just spat curse words into the ground before struggling back to his feet. “I’m getting Kenny. I’ll pick you up on the way back.” He said, stomping toward the still-running car, angrier than he might have ever been in his life. He sort of expected Kyle to get up and hit him again, but, bafflingly, he just gave a breathy laugh-sob and stayed in the mud.

“Fine. Fine! Go ahead Stan, leave me behind, like fucking always.”

Stan was pretty sure nothing could convince him to turn around, but there it was, and he did, “What?”

“Nothing,” said Kyle, sitting back on his haunches like he was trying to stay out of the dirt, despite being coated, “just go.”

“No, no. Hang on,” Stan said, anger washing away like silt. He went to sit next to him, unconcerned with the moisture, “What are you talking about?”

“You left,” Kyle said, and his voice sounded tense, like he was about to cry. Stan was both perturbed and confused by his emotional rollercoaster.

“Where did I go?”

“To Kenny,” he said, miserably, looking down between his legs at a crushed footprint, “You picked him up and put me down like I was nothing.”

“What? No, no I didn’t. You were the one who stopped hanging out with me!” Stan said, indignantly, his pride hurt.

“I was supposed to be your super best friend, and then he moved in and it was like I didn’t even exist anymore.”

“His parents kidnapped his sister and fled the state, dude- they abandoned him. Kevin fucking vanished for christ’s sake, he- he was going through some shit and I wanted to be there for my friend and I- I wanted you to be there, too, but you weren’t.”

Kyle was silent for a moment before nearly whispering, “I didn’t think I was invited.”

Stan’s hand hovered beyond him, wanting desperately to touch and being unable to. When Kenny’s parents had come under legal scrutiny for their shady business dealings they’d taken their youngest daughter and skipped town, vanishing into the wind. Kevin had left shortly afterward, not wanting to be found either, and that had left Kenny in the care of the Marsh family, where he’d quickly fallen into step. Stan had spent many nights curled around Kenny who would wake to night terrors screaming and he would wish Kyle were there to sandwich him between them, safe, because if they were together, nothing could possibly be wrong, and even Kenny would have felt that through his late night panic. Stan was sure of it.

He was overcome by the desire to kiss him, suddenly, covered in mud, eyes puffy and red, in the dead of night, but he didn’t, and instead they stood, shivering.

“Let’s go get Kenny,” Kyle said, and started toward the car. Stan opened his mouth to say something, but Kyle had clearly decided the conversation was over, and Stan wasn’t certain he wanted him to fight for it not to be, so he walked to his side of the car in silence.

Kyle surveyed the inside for a moment before gathering some towels from the trunk to cover the seats. Stan sat in his, trying to ignore the mud and water staining his clothes and irritating his damp skin. They turned the heat up.

They drove mostly in silence until they saw Kenny’s beaten blue Cavalier parked haphazardly on the side of the road. Stan was out of the car before it had even stopped, throwing open Kenny’s driver side door to cling to him like he’d been gone for days instead of hours. Kyle waited awkwardly in his car while Kenny hiccupped into Stan’s shoulder, curled up in the seat.

“Hey, dude, it’s fine. It’s okay.”

“It’s not, it’s not,” Kenny choked, running his fingers through his long, dirty gold hair, tied into a messy bun and tugging at the strangled ends anxiously, “I couldn’t even confront them. I couldn’t do anything. I’m such a fucking coward.”

“You’re not a coward,” Stan said, probably a little too harshly, “but you’re freaking out. What are you on?”

Kenny sniffled pathetically and nodded at the glovebox. Stan leaned over him and popped it open. The first thing he saw was the plastic zip lock bag, crumpled and dusted white, and the second was the pistol underneath it. He snapped his hand back like it had burned him with a hiss and looked at Kenny, frightened.

“It wasn’t for them,” he said, quietly, and Stan just hugged him for awhile.

“You can’t do this like this,” he said, eventually, pulling back, and Kenny nodded with a thick swallow, looking at his feet, “We’re going home. Okay?”

“I can’t- can’t leave her here,” he said, quietly.

“You can come back for her. When you’re less fucked up,” Stan said, again, more harshly than he had meant to. Kenny nodded and refused to make eye contact. Stan looked at Kyle, who was still sitting awkwardly in his car.

Stan lingered by the door for a moment, before ushering Kenny into the backseat and trotting over to Kyle’s window, which he rolled down, tapping the wheel nervously with his fingers, engine still running.

“I’m going to drive him back home,” Stan said, reluctantly, “Will you be okay?”

“Yeah,” Kyle didn’t meet his eyes, “I’ll be okay.”

“…Are _we_ okay?” Stan asked. Kyle hesitated, then shifted the car into reverse and pulled out onto the road. Stan didn’t watch him leave.

The ride back was largely uneventful- Kenny curled up in the backseat, shivered and sobbed and slept and occasionally apologized, none of which were new. Stan played a mixtape he’d made Kenny for Easter two years ago he found in the cd player. He hadn’t even been sure Kenny would like Pinkerton, but he was starting to hate it now that it was the only song Kenny would play in his car. Stan usually insisted on driving. He skipped the track when he checked that Kenny was asleep again, fists finally slack around the hem of his dress and not kneading white knuckled against it any more. Taylor Swift’s upbeat pop music didn’t seem appropriate to the situation, but mindless lyrics like “you got that James Dean, daydream look in your eye, and I got that red lip, classic, thing that you like,” felt reassuringly ordinary, but phrases like “midnight, come and pick me up no headlights, long drive, end in burning flames or paradise,” were starting to make him uncomfortable, so he turned it off, and left himself alone with his thoughts, instead.

He mostly thought about Kyle. He thought a little about Tweak’s heart attack and wondered if Kyle had only dated Craig out of pity, or if it was some kind of defense mechanism, dating someone he knew clearly wasn’t interested. It was hard to tell. Stan didn’t feel like he knew Kyle well enough to guess anymore. Kenny woke up and leaned over the front seat, mashing the track button on the cd player until Pinkerton played. He sat back and leaned into the upholstery while Stan sighed.

“I can’t believe you fucking showed up with Kyle,” Kenny said, pulling his face out of the seat. Stan shrugged, realized Kenny couldn’t see that, and mumbled noncommittally.

“Did you guys work shit out?”

Stan chewed his lip, but kept his eyes straight, “Not really.”

“It’s my fault, isn’t it? Why you don’t talk anymore.”

Stan tilted his head to look at Kenny in the back seat, who had returned to kneading the satin hem of his dress, tugging at the sad seam lines of the edging, sewn and resewn after anxious fits. “It’s my fault, honestly.”

“Yeah, but it’s cuz of me,” Kenny said, choking on a sob, “I shoulda run off with Kevin when he went. Fuckin’ curse,” he mumbled, face back into the seat.

“Kenny, dude, come on- you’re not- you’re not fucking cursed, okay?” Stan grit his teeth on old arguments he didn’t want to dredge up, “And I’m glad you didn’t fuckin run off. I literally just picked your ass up from bumfuck nowhere, okay? I know you feel like shit, but I’m glad you stayed. Alright?”

“Yeah,” Kenny said, but Stan didn’t really believe him. “Are you gonna tell Mom?”

“Do I need to?”

“No.”

“Then no. We’ll call her before we visit, okay? After we’ve cleaned you up. You don’t want to meet her like this.”

“Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you so fucking filthy?”

Stan had entirely forgotten he was still covered in caked mud, because it was mostly dry now, and he had streak marks all over his arms.

“Fell,” he said, “in the mud.”

Kenny giggled inappropriately and leaned forward to hit back track on the cd player as the song came to an end. He ignored Stan’s dirty look.

“Did he punch you?”

Stan groaned, “Yeah. Yeah, he did.”

“Yeah, you’ve got, like, a split lip or something and a ton of blood on your face. You look pretty gnarly dude.”

“You should see the other guy,” Stan grumbled, and they both went quiet for a bit, uncomfortably, “Should I talk to him?”

“About what?”

“He says I abandoned him.”

“When?”

“When you moved in.”

“Oh.”

“I just mean, like- that’s crazy, right?”

Kenny frowned as he accidentally tore off the satin hem, rolling it up absently so it wouldn’t tear further, “I dunno. Maybe we did kinda… Both. Stop hanging out with him as much.”

Stan was silent for a minute. “Okay,” he said, then turned Pinkerton up a little louder.

The first thing he noticed when he pulled into his driveway was that Kyle’s car was still running and he was still in it. It was dark, but Stan was worried, and Kenny fumbled for the car keys, reaching over the seats.

“I’m going to bed,” he said, sounding emotionally exhausted, “just go fucking talk to him.”

Stan waited until Kenny had disappeared inside before he opened his car door, shoved his hands into his pockets and crossed the lawn to the Broflovski’s driveway. He saw Kyle bent over the steering wheel, buried in his coat and still covered in mud, and he rapped on the passenger side window gently. Kyle jerked up with a start, like he hadn’t noticed him, and sniffled, rolling down the window.

“What?” He said, defensively, and it was clear from the tautness of his voice and the puffiness of his eyes that he’d been crying.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, going to wipe his nose on his sleeve and thinking better of it, “I’m fine.”

“Did you really feel like I stopped liking you?” Stan asked, leaning on the sill of the car door. Kyle let his head collapse back into his arms and mumbled into his sleeve.

“You did, though.”

Stan opened the door and sat down in the passenger seat when Kyle didn’t tell him not to.

“I’m sorry,” he said, kneading his fists together between his knees and staring at his lap.

A pause, and Kyle peaked over his sleeve, “I thought you were in love with him, for awhile.”

Stan couldn’t contain a little titter of laughter, and Kyle frowned, face flushing, “Kenny? Are you joking?”

“Shut up,” said Kyle, miserably, and Stan frowned again.

“I was as much in love with Kenny as I was with Wendy.”

“Were you not in love with Wendy?” Kyle said, perking up.

“No,” Stan said, folding his legs under him and looking down, “I don’t think so. I think I just wanted to be. She was safe, you know? If I was dating her I didn’t have to worry about dating anyone else, or like, anyone else wanting to date me.”

“Like me,” Kyle said, quietly, “you knew.”

“Yeah. Of course I knew, dude.”

“If you didn’t want to fuck me then why didn’t you just fucking say so, then?!” Kyle burst, jerking off the steering wheel, “If you didn’t like me then why did you dance around that shit?! Why the fuck did you let me wallow for so fucking long?!”

Stan flinched and tried to hold back the burn of tears under his eyelids, but they wouldn’t be abated so he focused on keeping his voice steady, instead, “That’s- dude that’s, that’s the thing, though- I didn’t want to make a fucking decision because I- I didn’t want to not have the- I.” He took a deep breath, “Because I did want to f- date you. And that scared me, so I told myself I didn’t, and- and I really hurt you, I guess.”

Kyle stared at his own lap in turn, picking at the dirt caked onto his pants, “I might have overreacted. I just- I wanted you to be jealous. I wanted to see you mad.”

“I _was_ jealous, actually,” Stan laughed, grimacing, “But if I thought I showed it you’d never speak to me again.”

Kyle stared at him, before laughing, and suddenly, they were both laughing at the absurdity of the situation, sitting Kyle’s CRV at dawn, covered in mud on a sunday morning and exhausted, admitting they’d been fucking around like idiots for the last four years.

“Jesus Christ,” said Stan, holding his head in his hands, “what the fuck are we _doing_?”

“So, what? What’s this mean then?” Kyle said, trying to breathe regularly again, “are you gay now? Are we dating?”

“I dunno, shit,” Stan said, feeling reenergized, “Hang on. Hang on, okay, get out.”

Stan shoved the door open and ran to the other side, tugging at Kyle’s sleeve to his family’s front door.

“What on earth are- Stan, what are you doing?” Kyle whispered, grinning. Stan opened the door, quietly, and pointed at the ground.

“Wait here, just like, for a second.”

Kyle stepped inside and Stan shut the door. He scrambled back onto the lawn and grabbed a fistful of dandelions, ripping them out of the dirt and leaving an ugly brown patch, before running back and knocking as quietly as he could. Kyle opened it, clearly trying to withhold a delirious titter as Stan shoved a fistful of weeds at him.

“Kyle Broflovski, would you like to go on a date with me?”

Kyle rolled his eyes and took the “flowers” from him, “Yes, Stan, I would love to.”

Stan gave him a dopey smile and wrung his hands nervously together, before going in for a hug, even though Kyle went in for a kiss, and they knocked their foreheads together and both cursed, Stan laughing and Kyle noticing he’d dropped the dirty dandelions onto his mother’s white carpet, but Stan grabbed his face in his hands and smashed their lips together, ugly and messy, teeth clinking together in an unpracticed way, but his whole chest blossomed, and he was pretty sure he was more than a little manic, but this was probably the best night of his life and he was going to enjoy it.


End file.
